wanderlust

I love movie trailers. A good trailer is like New Year’s Eve, a 2 minute snippet of the best of a movie that gives you hope the final product will be just as good. I love voiceover guy, I love the choice bits of soundtrack that have me googling “give me something to believe” (btw: Henry Poole is Here trailer, it’s The Bravery).

The best trailer I have seen this year, or maybe ever, is for a documentary called “American Teen”. I had seen the poster on a blog somewhere and thought, oh, a remake of the Breakfast Club but it looks incredible.

American Teen follows four high school seniors through their last year. I could talk about the 3 minute trailer and how it made me feel for eight more paragraphs or you could watch it.

A higher resolution is here:

http://www.firstshowing.net/2008/04/11/must-watch-american-teen-trailer/

Hi. I have never blogged before. whats your name? please look at this video. We (whit and i) just watched it four times in a row….yeah…we need to get some….

The B-side to “Let’s Go to the Mall….Today“, Sandcastles in the Sand hits it home. I love, love How I Meet Your Mother; it is a rare, well-written, expertly cast sitcom in the world of crappy reality game shows. If the whispered lyric “I’m on the pill now…” dosen’t get you, I don’t know what will.

off to elba this weekend with the fancy four….

then finals

and the last blast-

Florence/Siena/Venice/Athens/Santorini/Munich/Innsbruck/Zell am See/Salzburg/Vienna

….then home.

\”i don\’t need no man\”

A moment ago, picking my classes for next semester, I had to choose between following the Master’s guidelines and the PhD program. I had already opened a new window and typed in “online magic eight ball” before I stopped myself.

save all of your light for those who can’t sleep at night….

After just booking a flight and flat for the night, I am feeling a little silly. My name is Whit ; I am from a very small town in Virginia but currently live in Florence, Italy. I’ve seen Mr. Ritter a few times in D.C., but had a minor spasm seeing that he was touring in the UK, as the majority of European music consists of screeching 16-minute club music from Ukrainian pop stars.

Anyone that would scoff at the idea of getting a train from Firenze to Pisa, flying to London, taking the train to St. Alban for the night for a 2 hour show then heading back to Italy has clearly not heard Mr. Ritter’s music. I can’t stress enough how absolutely worth it the trek will be.

Whoever opens this email must get a fascinating myriad of letters; I’ll spare tales of clichéd epiphany’s to “thin blue line” and times I’ve justified cutting and running with the lyrics from “wolves” and just ask that you pass along a sincere thank you. It is a pleasure to have Josh’s music as the soundtrack to my life.

All the best,

Whit

busy european skies

Originally uploaded by thelastsemester

I feel like I have been in constant motion the last month and things are slowing down a bit. Visits to Amsterdam, Rome, Venice, Spain and Morocco have kept me in a rather constant state of flux but have been absolutely amazing. Just two months to go and a lot of great trips coming up-to Belgium, Cinqueterra, Elba, Vienna, Greece and Switzerland.

I’ll get Africa pictures up on flickr soon….Megan and Matt arrive for a week visit tomorrow. Straight rain for the seven days they are here, but I am thrilled they came.

Nights like this, when sleep is elusive, I wonder what Jonathan is doing. If he has left his wife in bed and padded into the kitchen avoiding cats strewn, careless in their sleep and papers stacked, old copies of the new york times that still carried his name. I pictured him rummaging through the refrigerator, the hunt for taste motivated by anything but hunger. Staring at the glaringly bright computer screen, secretly thinking the cursor is such a cunt. And it is. It flashes with metronomed condescendation.

Come.

On.

Write.

Something.

I’m.

Waiting.

It’s nights like this I wish he and I were actual friends, instead of scenarios of insomnia friends. I would be the placating voice on the other end of the receiver. “It’ll happen/critics are just that/use the pressure”

Nights like these, maybe it’s enough that I am here, thinking of him, cursing my own blinking cursor and hoping he knows that expectations are only set for those who can fulfill them.

Nights like this, I wish I could tell him about days like today. On the train, getting off at the stop, lazily surveying the crowd, I see a girl, in a yellow coat, holding a copy of everything is illuminated and just gape at her. She looked up and over the ping of “doors opening” and the rustle of bags and newspapers, we both get it.